OJTTEG-Chapter 12: Avenging the Vegetables (Patreon)

"You scoundrel! Are you eating chicken or pork?"

"Venison jerky."

"Do you live here? Whose child are you?"

"What does it matter to you?"

"Venison!" he shouts. "That's an animal! What are you doing? Eating raw and bloody meat? It has a soul!"

Ah, a vegetarian or an animal rights activist. Now I understand why An had that expression. Their family has probably dealt with this before.

"Yes, I think there's some salt on it," Haunter replies. "Tastes a bit salty, but overall sweet. Want a piece?"

"I mean, it was alive!"

"But it's dead now." Haunter holds up a piece of jerky. "See, it's not moving, lifeless, like a still pond."

"Stay away from me!"

"Don't you feel any shame?"

"Uh, I feel it's quite tasty?"

"You dare speak like that!" the old man exclaims, his face wrinkling in disgust. "Meat is toxic! When these animals die, their souls harbor endless resentment, which you consume and absorb into every cell of your being!"

So noisy.

"You think I don't want to?" Haunter shouts, "I'm a vegetarian too, but I have pica, so I have to eat meat."

"What?"

"At first, I thought eating meat wasn't good, but then I came to terms with it."

"What are you talking about?"

"What did you eat for lunch?" Haunter asks.

"Seaweed, why?" the old man grumbles, "That's truly good for your body. Only a vegetarian diet can purify your soul."

"Seaweed!" Haunter suddenly yells, startling An beside him. "You dare eat seaweed!"

"Wait... what's wrong with seaweed?"

"I'm not just a vegetarian; I'm a seaweed protectionist."

"What?" The old man looks bewildered. "Seaweed... what?"

"Seaweed protectionist!" Haunter starts shouting, his cat bristling in his arms. "Seaweed just lives quietly where it belongs, and you dig it up to eat! How many vegetables have you consumed? Everything in this world has a soul, living carefully, and you uproot them to eat!"

"No, seaweed is a green food..."

"It's murder, you know? Murder! I have pica, so I eat meat, but at least animals can have a peaceful end. But vegetables? You uproot them and eat them whole—it's truly despicable!"

"I'm a seaweed protectionist precisely to spread this idea! Everything has a soul, and you think seaweed doesn't? If they didn't have souls, why would they grow towards the sun? They revere the sunlight, reaching for it, only to be eaten by fish," Haunter says, looking deeply pained.

"What?"

"Every piece of seaweed hopes to grow in the ocean. But there are fish in the ocean that bring about their demise!"

"What about the fish?" The old man is suddenly at a loss for words.

"To protect the seaweed, I must eat fish. Similarly, to protect all kinds of plants, I must eat the herbivores."

Haunter suddenly gives him a disdainful look. "You only see me eating meat on the surface without considering the deeper meaning—like fish killing seaweed, deer trampling grass, and you eating vegetables!"

Haunter suddenly throws himself to the ground, grabbing the old man's leg, while Senior leaps onto the old man's face.

"Where did this cat come from?! What are you doing? Get off!" The old man struggles to pull the cat off his face, and Senior takes the opportunity to pull out a few hairs from the old man.

"You wicked old man, you've devoured countless vegetables!"

"Let go of me, let me go, you're crazy!" The old man begins to panic, but he can't match Haunter's strength and can't break free.

"You're eating vegetables too! I'm going to bite you, just like I eat the vegetarian deer!"

"For the revenge of seaweed and vegetables!"

Haunter bites down on the old man's thigh.

Thud.

Not far away, An's phone falls to the ground. Her jaw seems dislocated, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Are you a dog?

"Ah! Get away! You're a demon!"

"Let me go!"

The old man feels the pain and abruptly pushes Haunter away, fleeing in a daze. He keeps looking back every few steps, terrified that Haunter might chase after him.

"What happened to him?"

Ormond, having just parked the car, steps out of the garage and sees the old man running frantically past.

"Not sure, seems like he's gone mad... ouch."

An picks up her phone, her gaze shifting elsewhere. She tries to walk into the house but accidentally bumps into the doorframe, clutching her head slowly.

"Are you okay? Did you sit too long in the car?"

"I'm fine, I just need to rest for a bit." An rubs her head. "Call me when it's time for dinner."

"Alright, that old guy's always been a bit crazy. I'll go get Haunter's luggage; we've got a busy night ahead."

Ormond shrugs indifferently, glancing once more at the old man's retreating figure before getting to work.

……

"Come on, kid, have a seat and try my handiwork," Ormond says, placing a teacup in front of Haunter. He massages his back, feeling a bit worn out. Although Haunter's luggage isn't heavy, it's filled with an odd assortment of items that baffle Ormond. To organize these things, he has spent quite some time.

For instance, there are wires of different thicknesses and various sizes of wrenches and screwdrivers. According to Haunter, these items were gifts from courses taught at the orphanage.

Ah, so that's it. It's to develop practical skills, right? Ormond tries hard to convince himself, yet he can't help but think of less savory uses for these items.

Then, he suddenly comes across a pair of oversized black stockings. He's sure they're not meant to be worn, as they're unusually large and the lower part has been cut off, plus there's only one.

There's even a local sewer map, alongside a homemade guide for crafting controlled knives and a tutorial on using capacitors to make improvised firearms.

Does the orphanage really teach this kind of stuff? Goodness, lock-picking tools and robbery kits are all there.

What exactly is this orphanage teaching? Are they preparing for a zero-dollar shopping spree when money runs out? Ormond can't help but worry about Haunter's character.

Will this kid be a bad influence on my daughter? Ormond privately smokes several more cigarettes over this concern.